Could It Be? For the past week and a half I have been suffering what I believe to be the demon woe of womankind – PMS. However, since I have not engaged with the beast since mid-March 2006, I do not know if it is truly a sign that my period is going to spoil my white pants wearing wiles. (Please note that I actually do not wear white pants, well not until Memorial Day, and only if I can somehow manage to lose the baby weight that is plaguing my existence). But back to the PMS:

Symptom One: One day last week I left my house to forage for food. I was gone for 45 minutes. I went to nine different places, 2 of which I waited in line only to bolt right before ordering because I was unsure of what to order. My mental process during the Subway line wait: “Oh, Subway. Okay, I can do that. Hmmm, do they have that Meatball special on Wednesdays? Do I want meatballs. Oh, with cheese would be good. But meatballs aren’t exactly figure flattering, what about turkey? What turkey and cheese on wheat? Hmmm, that sounds okay, but they give you like a slice of cheese, which they say is 2 pieces because they fold it in half in a diagonal. Whatever Subway, you tart.” Finally I gave up, got Vitamin Water and wondered if I was going nuts. Then it dawned on me that this nuttitude is exactly my MO when PMSed - going from food locale to food locale, having inane conversations in my head, and basically driving myself mad.

Symptom Two: On Tuesday night I saw a commercial for Kellogg’s Raisin Bran Crunch. On Wednesday morning, I loaded Owen in the Bjorn and we made a beeline to Safeway under the pretense I needed a few things. But the only thing I truly needed was that cereal. So when I got home, I immediately had a bowl and good lord it was good. The flavors danced upon my tongue like a Jackson Five Era Michael. It was heavenly. I resisted another bowl until 9:30 p.m. However, this morning, I have already have had two bowls and the box is reaching an empty state that is causing worry. So again, craving a particular food to obsession is classic PMS.

However, other than being a tad irritable that I associated to our moving to the new house, I have no other symptoms. I could be bloated, but I could also be hiding Jimmy Hoffa in my belly, so I really don’t know. Supposedly breastfeeding is a natural birth control, but I think do believe these mental breakdowns could be the beginnings of my foray into Advil purchasing and cramping bliss. Which leads me to another concern – will the fact of me giving birth relieve my agonizing cramps as promised by my mother. We shall see . . .